hundreds

The girl steps onstage. She picks up the microphone, looking at the hundreds of people sitting in front of her.

The music plays softly in the background. The young girl opens her mouth, her heart.

She sends a message, her words drifting sweetly through the auditorium, to the hundreds of people sitting in front of her.

The girl steps into school. She looks around at the hundreds of people walking in front of her.

She runs a hand through her dark, inky hair, smoothing it out.

She remembers checking her outfit, her hair, her smile.

Scared, that she wasn’t good enough, pretty enough for the hundreds of people walking in front of her.

The girls steps into her room. She is alone. She doesn’t have to pretend for the hundreds of people who were in front of her.

The girl steps into her kitchen. Her mother looks at her disapprovingly. The young girl sighs, aware of her mistakes. The hundreds of expectations her mother has for her are too much. Is she a disappointment?

The girls stands in the shadows of her older sister.

Her beautiful, talented, older sister.

The girl tries to step out of the shadows, but everytime, she gets engulfed again.

The girl steps outside, gazing at the hundreds of stars spread out in front of her.

She closes her eyes, wishing for the hundredth time, hoping that this time, her wish will come true.

The girl steps into school again. She looks around at the hundreds of people walking in front of her.

She stands with her hundreds of friends, holding on tightly. She is not ready to let go. She will never be ready to let go.

The girl walks with her crush. She gazes up at him the way she gazes up at the hundreds of stars.

She opens her journal and flips to an empty page. Her pencil bursts on the paper, as she writes about the hundreds of people, hundreds of stars, hundreds of friends, one love.

The girls smiles for the hundredth time. She knows the smile is fake, but nobody else does. She tries to stay happy, because her friends happiness is more important than hers.

The girl is like a balloon. Once somebody lets go of the string, she drifts farther and farther until she is gone.

She needs her hundreds of friends to hold tightly to her string, so she doesn’t float away.

The girls steps outside of the schools. She waits for her mother to come, gripping a test with 90% written in red ink.

She smiles excitedly, hoping her mother will be proud. One of her hundreds of expectation.

The girl reaches home and sits in her room, alone again. She wishes for her hundreds of friends that she isn’t ready to let go of.

The girl decides to do what she does best. She pulls out a pencil and opens her journal to a fresh page, and begins to write:

“The girl steps onstage. She picks up the microphone, looking at the hundreds of people sitting in front of her.”

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